Private Celebration
by surena-13
Summary: PWP, set at the end of 7x10 Fresh Pursuit, after Goldman has been beaten, Sharon and Fritz have their own celebration.


Sharon gasped into his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle her moans and whimpers as his fingers worked tirelessly between her thighs, circled her clit, slid inside her just to tease before tracing her folds. After dozens of quick encounters and fast fucks, he had somehow learned how to turn her in a trembling mess in absolutely no time at all. She could feel his smug grin against her mouth before his teeth sank in her bottom lip and gently pulled.

Her panties were somewhere on the floor of the bathroom stall, practically making it impossible to put them on again, and her blazer was hanging, ridiculously so, on the doorknob to keep it from being stained, her glasses tucked safely into one of the pockets. They had done quite a few risky thing since the start of their affair, but none quite as stupid as fucking in a bathroom stall in Parker Center while his wife was on the same floor, celebrating her win over Goldman.

She slipped her hands between their bodies and focused on unbuckling his belt and undoing the top. Working a hand into his trousers and boxers, she curled her fingers around his cock. His fingers on her clit faltered for a moment and she felt him moan into her mouth. She smirked as he moved his lips to her throat, nipping at her skin to hide the fact that he was moaning with every stroke of her hand. Good, the tables were turned.

"I wanna be inside you," Fritz whispered before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Sharon whimpered, her head rolling back, letting it thump against the thin wall of the stall, the sound echoing in the bathroom. This was such a hideously idiotic idea, fucking in the women's bathroom on Major Crime's floor - they were bound to get caught. Every sound they made seemed that much louder with the hollow echo. If anybody were to walk in, they'd know exactly what they were doing.

"What are you waiting for then?" she husked, pulling her hand free to push both his trousers and his boxers down his hips. Fritz' fingers disappeared from her sex as he yanked up her dress until it was bunched around her waist. Sharon hooked a leg around his hips, pulling him closer to her. She had to force herself to keep her eyes open and focused on his while he slowly pushed inside her. For all the urgency in their movements, Fritz took his time for this, allowing them both to savor this moment.

Sharon felt the leg that held all her weight tremble as she dug her fingers into his shoulders. She was too damn old for this position. Even with her nearly daily yoga exercises, she couldn't pull this off for long anymore, but judging from the urgency in Fritz's eyes, they weren't going to be here long. It was only a celebratory fuck anyways; a quickie in the bathroom while everybody was drinking apple cider, reveling in the fact that the Goldman nightmare was over.

"Fuck," she whispered when he started setting a quick rhythm. Fritz grinned and placed a hand on her ass, holding her in place before he kissed her again, his tongue brushing against hers, swallowing her moans as he thrust into her. She curled her fingers of her left hand around the top edge of the bathroom stall wall, breaking the kiss to let out a soft whimper before she closed her eyes and tried to focus on Fritz and what he was doing between her legs.

Sharon grabbed his hair, nails scratching over his scalp as she attempted to keep her balance, her heel slipping on the tiled floor. She felt his hand on her thigh, a feeble effort to steady her, but it didn't seem to work. Fritz felt so good and she wanted this so desperately, but this wasn't working. She was going to fall and undoubtedly return to the murder room with a broken limb. Fritz was good, but not good enough to warrant broken bones.

"Fritz, I can't…" she muttered softly, surprised at how desperate she sounded. She wasn't going to come like this; she'd barely be able to enjoy it in this position. Before she fully realized what was happening, Fritz had pulled out of her, staining the inside of her thigh with her own wetness and his precum, and spun her around. She found herself pressed up against the cool wall, her palms flat against the smooth surface.

"Yes, you can," he whispered into her ear, his erection pressing against her ass, his hands gripping her thighs, pushing them apart slightly. Sharon arched her back, rubbing her ass against his cock. She grinned when Fritz groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs. She loved she could wind him up just as easily he wound her up. She loved teasing him, playing with him, pretending that she didn't need him just as badly.

Her sense of control quickly disappeared when he pushed into her in one smooth motion, forcing Sharon to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out as her nails sought purchase on the wall. This felt so much better. She could get lost in this feeling of having him inside her, hitting all the right spots without any of her muscles crying out in protest. It felt fantastic to have the cock of another woman's husband buried inside her.

"Told you so," Fritz said into her ear before he swept her hair aside and kissed her neck, one hand resting on her hip, the other searching out a stiff nipple through the fabric of her dress and bra, leaving Sharon to wish they were naked and she could feel his skin against hers, so she could feel his mouth on her breasts, his tongue flicking over nipples. Instead she had a quick tryst with half her clothes on in a bathroom.

"Just shut up and fuck me," she hissed and she could hear Fritz chuckle behind her, he always did like it when she cursed and ordered him around, but he obeyed her nonetheless, grabbing her hips with both hands, unquestionably leaving finger-shaped bruises in her skin again, before he set a fast rhythm, fucking her with long thrusts. She moaned and let her head fall forward, resting her forehead against the cool wall, taking in the feeling of Fritz sliding in and out of her at a fast pace, the sounds of his skin slapping against hers washing over her. This was exactly what she wanted.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed one of his hands and guided it around her, between her legs until both their fingers found her clit. Fritz took it from there, but Sharon kept her hand atop his, feeling his fingers move against her sex in a perfect counter-rhythm to his thrusts. They had perfected this. So many secret meetings, stolen hours away from work and marriages, they had learned each other's bodies and a how to manipulate, how to take them to the edge and push them over.

She was panting now, not even trying to regain some semblance of control. Fritz knew precisely what he was doing, fucking her hard and fast with the knowledge she would feel a dull ache between her legs for the rest of the day, just like she wanted. She moaned and writhed against him. They were getting loud, too loud and they both knew that Sharon wasn't going to get any quieter. She almost sighed in relief when Fritz covered her mouth with his other hand. She did not need someone walking in on them and ruin both their lives.

That all too familiar feeling was starting to spread out from the pit of her stomach to the ends of her limbs. She was close, her muscles were tensing up and her vision was starting to cloud. After a few practiced flicks of Fritz' fingers, Sharon just let go. She let out a long shuddering moan, muffled by Fritz' hand. She closed her eyes and just gave in to the orgasm that coursed through her body, leaving her weak in his arms, his cock still buried inside her, bracing herself against the wall to stop herself from completely collapsing.

It wasn't until she noticed that his hand had disappeared from her mouth and his teeth had sunk into her neck that she realized he was coming as well. She let out a shocked cry of pain and grabbed his arm in surprise. His bite left her with a stinging ache and Sharon was fairly certain that he had come within a hair breadth of breaking the skin. She reached behind her to run a hand through his hair as he rode out his orgasm.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Fritz breathed as he straightened himself and took a step back, slipping out of her. Sharon winced at the slightly uncomfortable feeling and turned around to face him. He looked absolutely flustered and slightly out of it. His hair was a mess and traces of her lipstick were on his mouth and throat. There was no way that he could return to the celebration in the murder room like that. It wouldn't take a detective to figure out what he had been doing.

"Not really, but I'll take it as a compliment," Sharon countered with a smirk. Fritz rolled his eyes at her pathetic excuse for a joke, but smiled nonetheless. He rolled off a bit of toilet paper and handed it to her, before getting another piece and cleaning himself up. Sharon wiped away their combined come before it could make its way onto her thighs and leave a sticky mess that she didn't want to explain to her dry-cleaners. She tossed the wad of paper in the toilet when she was done and pushed her dress back down her hips and thighs before flushing the toilet, erasing the evidence of what transpired there.

Fritz had already zipped up his trousers and looked moderately presentable again aside from his face and hair. He would fix that before he joined the celebration again. Before she could say anything, Fritz had cupped the back of her neck and kissed her, his lips slowly moving against hers. This was different from their desperate kissing while they were building up to something. This was slow and she could feel it in almost every inch of her body. It left her smiling when he pulled back.

"You should clean yourself up and get back to your wife and celebrate. You two deserve it," she said quietly and without any hint of venom as she grabbed her blazer from the doorknob and put it on before placing her glasses back on her nose. Fritz nodded and unlocked the door, but didn't step out of the stall before he had stolen another quick kiss from her. She didn't feel guilty anymore. The first few times, she had been overcome by guilt every time he left her, but now, she had gotten used to knowing she was sleeping with Brenda Leigh's husband.

"Agent Howard? Congratulations on beating Peter Goldman," she said as he exited the stall. He turned around and for a second looked really surprised at her words before he nodded in acknowledgment. Their affair wasn't over yet, they both knew that, but the reason their affair had started was. It seemed strange that what had forced them together in bed was done. Goldman was gone. Something new was going to start now.

"You too, Captain Raydor. You too."


End file.
